


The Fragments Left Unsaid

by ikita



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Past Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 14:49:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15798759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikita/pseuds/ikita
Summary: The thought of such terrified him, more than he would’ve like to admit. It prodded at his mind, begging him to stay silent, keep to himself.Safe, it whispered. Stay where it's safe.But Sam felt safe too. And worried, and understanding. He had more to offer than Gabriel could ever give to himself. That was enough to convince him to continue.





	The Fragments Left Unsaid

**Author's Note:**

> I'M BACK BABY 
> 
> And this time I've abandoned Star Wars and fallen into the pit known as the Supernatural fandom. It's a lovley place, really. 
> 
> Anyways, I'm very bitter about how season 13 handled Gabriel's recovery. And by handled, I mean completly ignored for the most part. So I decided to whip up a quick one-shot that dealt with something I really would've liked to see on the show: Asmodeus's lasting impact on Gabriel, even after his death. And then a quick one-shot kept getting longer and longer until it was pushing 6 pages in google and here we are now. 
> 
> Enjoy! (or join me in screaming about how spn has the nerve to call Gabe dying to prove he wasn't worthless after suffering from severe trauma a redemtion arc, either one works)

He had barely slept since he had returned to the bunker. It shouldn’t have been a problem, considering he was an angel; sleep wasn’t required to keep him alive. Yet spending a near eternity on Earth with humans had left him rather fond of the sleeping sensation. It had turned to dependency, eventually, now only heightened with his currently low grace.

It wasn’t that he _couldn’t_ sleep—most of the time, at least. Gabriel chose not to. He knew what awaited him when he drifted off. Hell, there were times he couldn’t close his eyes without images he would’ve loved to forget flashing across his memory. None of it was new, simply a different variation, much more frequently, of the same thing he had been dealing with since he fled Heaven. He had his fair share of night terrors then, scenes of an absent father and his children, lost without his guidance. Of his brothers, of fighting, of running. What he saw now was different.

There had been times, exhaustion nagging at his bones, his grace too weak to heal it, when he had let himself succumb to sleep. The first of such, the first since the night he had been taken, being immediately after his leaving of the Men of Letters bunker. He had collapsed, only to awake, hair clinging to his forehead with sweat, eyes wide. His hands had gone to his lips, feeling. He tested it, opening his mouth, parting his lips. No wire. It was gone, Sam had removed it. Still, it seemed, his mind took minutes to make the connection of _safety_. His breathing slowly returning to normal, the tremors stilled. Gabriel tried to avoid sleep after that. Reassuring as his freedom from Asmodeus was, and as consistently the feeling returned after each nightmare, he was left with a deeper thought every time, one he desired to stray away from.

So instead of sleeping, as all the current occupants of the bunker seemed to be doing, he slipped past his door, tread softly down the hallway, and entered the library. Pulling a book off the nearest shelf at random, he took a seat at the table and propped his legs against the neighboring chair. He didn’t bother to check the title of the book, simply opening it and beginning to skim the first page. The title wouldn’t have done much good anyways, considering the words seemed to blur beyond recognition. Not that he was surprised. To put it mildly, sleep deprivation was a bitch.

He kept the book open, still, watching as the ink blurred together to form distorted lines across the pages. Without knowing exactly how much time had passed, he was drawn out from his spaced out state by the soft thuds of footsteps in the hallway. Startled, Gabriel quickly placed his feet of the ground and pushed his chair back. He stood, scrambling, his posture alert as he turned towards the entryway, prepared to summon an angel blade to hand if needed. Which was unlikely, considering the bunker was warded to keep most anything out of it. His caution was simply an instinctual response.

As expected, the source of the footsteps was quite the contrary of a threat. That was, to Gabriel at least. Sam was leaning against the door frame, still dressed in his clothes from the day before, his hand holding his tousled hair back. Sleep filled his eyes that were outlined by dark circles and he squinted to adjust to the new light. Gabriel relaxed as Sam’s gaze fell on to him, taking his seat once again. The hunter tilted his head, watching the shorter man from across the room.

“Gabriel?” he questioned, voice heavier than normal. “What are you doing awake?”

The archangel had no desire for the full truth to surface, crafting his answer to hide such instead. “Angels don’t sleep, kiddo,” he smirked, hoping it would be enough to hide his hope for avoidance of this conversation that was written across his face.

Leave it to Sam to see right through the half-lie. He straightened his posture, strode towards the seat next to Gabriel, and sat, angling the chair towards the other man. “Your grace is low. And you never seemed to hesitate to sleep before.” Gabriel shifted in his seat, darting his eyes across the table, bookshelves, ceiling. Anything but Sam. “What’s going on?”

The archangel kept his eyes distant, arms folded tightly over his chest, hugging himself, as his hands clung to the fabric of his shirt. It wasn’t the first time a Winchester had suspected him of withholding the truth. He had gotten away with it those times. Witty lies, playing off the trickster persona they knew him for, had persuaded them. This time should’ve had been different.

But he was tired. Physically, yes, but it went beyond that. He was tired of hiding behind lies, carefully crafted barriers between him and whatever awaited outside. Tired of dealing with—or quite the contrary—whatever got past those barriers in the solitary confinement of his own creation.

He couldn’t voice his thoughts, no matter how much they nagged and taunted from his brain. It was a risk he wasn’t, and never had been, willing to take. To admit such meant to show fear, to allow himself to be weak. Gabriel would not allow such vulnerability to surface. He lied instead.

“Nothing.” The exhaustion seemed to break him, allowing a hint of his desperation to slip through the cracks. Sam noticed. “Just thought I’d make myself useful and read up on…” he paused, tilting his head to the side to get a better view of the book hastily set on the tabletop in his earlier panic. He couldn’t quite make out the words, vision still hazy. Sam reached over and picked up the book, raising his eyebrow as he read the cover.

“On _Extraterrestrial Influences on Human Behaviorism_?” He held back a laugh. Gabriel narrowed his eyes in return, snatching the book away from the hunter.

“You never know.” His response was defensive, snapped back too quickly, too aggressively. Knowing better than to acknowledge it, Sam played along, raising his hands in mock defeat.

“If you say so,” he huffed. A part of him wanted to bring the conversation farther, try his best to get through to Gabriel. To tell him that he was there to talk to, could understand, to an extent, what the archangel had gone through. He granted a small portion of it victory. His expression turned solemn, face softening with concern. “Gabriel, you need to get some sleep.”

“Archangel, Sam. Archangel,” he offered a small smile before continuing, his tone serious. “And you need sleep too, more than I ever will.” He gave the hunter a fixed glare, a clear sign to end the conversation there. Sam wouldn’t have pushed it farther, his intentions were never to pass Gabriel’s comfort zone. But there was something more, the desperation still slipping through. A silent call for help.

“I got a few hours already. And unlike you, I’m not tired to the point I can’t read a book cover right in front of me.”

There was a huff of defeat from Gabriel. A small gesture, but beyond enough to indicate Sam’s apparent victory. Perhaps any other time he wouldn’t have given in so easily. Perhaps if he was a little more rested, and a little less defeated. Perhaps is he hadn’t put as much trust in Sam Winchester as he did.

“Look,” Gabriel near-growled in response. “I can’t sleep, alright.” He sighed, shoulders shrugging. “I tried, I couldn’t. So I came here.”

Sam watched as Gabriel’s gaze wandered across the opposite wall. The angel’s eyes were distant, glazed over and lacking the vibrancy that normally seemed to shine. His facade seemed to crumble more, his exhaustion more apparent than ever. “How long has it been since you got any decent rest?”

Gabriel kept his gaze on the wall across from him. He didn’t so much as blink as Sam spoke, words registering without provoking a reaction. “A few days, four of five.”

Sam sunk into his seat. The response carried the weight of something much larger hanging over. The hunter had had enough of his own share of problems to know that. Days without rest, unable to sleep because he knew what awaited him if he did. Fighting desperately against his will to pass out from exhaustion, just to get through another day. Just a bit longer and maybe it would be over. The hallucinations would stop. Sam could see right through the blank expression Gabriel wore. Archangel or not, he needed rest. He was more human than ever now, and if not for that, he needed to stop running from whatever was chasing him. To face it, allow himself to cope.  

“You get nightmares, don’t you?” Sam asked, lowering his voice to a soft whisper. The words sparked a reaction from the archangel, a hint of recognition flashing across his features. “You see things you don’t want to remember, every time you try and sleep.”

Gabriel turned, head hanging as the words processed. Shoulders shuddering with each breath, he struggled to articulate his words. His lips parted, only close again as he found himself unable to speak. It wasn’t something he spoke of, not ever. Experiencing what he did, day by day, the continuous extraction of something so intimately _his_ with no apparent end. He hadn’t expected it to just disappear; experiences like that never did, he had learned. But dealing with it verbally, admitting to his weaknesses and faults, that had never been a part of his plan.

Not until he could feel the effects of his lack of sleep tugging at his eyelids, when his grace was so weakened he couldn’t fly and he could’ve sworn that he was back in hell, lips sewn shut, every time he blinked. And every time he looked at Sam, he felt himself crumble a bit more. Knowing that the hunter saw right through his lies, wanted to help. That maybe, just maybe, Gabriel could trust him without facing the treatment he had grown accustomed to.

The words remained caught in his throat.

Gabriel nodded instead. Sam reached a hand out towards the angel, slowly running his fingers over his arm, prepared to pull away at any sign of discomfort.

“Alright,” Sam spoke with reassurance, hand trailing further to rest under Gabriel’s chin. He guided the archangel’s face upwards, meeting his eyes. Sam offered a soft smile, not of genuity, but of comfort and warmth. A silent reminder of his presence. “I get them to, sometimes.” With another nod of confirmation from Gabriel, Sam continued. “Look, I can’t say that I know what you’ve been through. I don’t. Just bits and pieces from what you’ve said and what Ketch told me.” Sam let silence fill the room as he ran circles along the angels shoulder with his thumb. Inhaling, he considered his words. It was a delicate topic to broach, one he intended to tread carefully through. “Gabriel, I do know that I’ve been through some pretty horrible things too, and I tried to deal with them alone. Hell, I still do. I’m the last person who should be telling you to talk, to ask for help,” he scoffed. “But I’d like to think we can help each other. Maybe we can start with this.”

Words came easier to Gabriel this time. The comforting hand on his shoulder steadying him and the hunter seated in front of him radiating of safety, he allowed himself to open up, if only a small bit.

“I can’t sleep, Sam.” His words were barely audible above his breathing. “Every time I fall asleep, I’m back there. And I can’t move. Can’t scream. No matter how far I run, I still go back.” With a rugged breath, Gabriel heaved forward. He pulled his knees to his chest, resting his feet on the chair, and wrapped his arms around around them. A habit he had become accustomed to in Hell, making himself smaller when vulnerable. “Asmodeus, Loki and his kids. They’re all dead, Sam. But I can’t-” he shuddered, and Sam reached his other hand forward to brace both of his shoulders. “I can’t get away from it. And when I wake up-” he shook his head. “When I wake up, it’s worse.”

Tucking his forehead onto his knees, Gabriel rested against Sam, the taller man’s hands holding him steady as he let himself fall weightless. He fought for breath, finding it harder each time; his lungs started to burn.

 _In, out_.

He was an archangel, breathing wasn’t necessary. The reminder didn’t seem to register, his mind too busy screaming and slurring together words of panic.

 _In, out_.

The room compressed around him, tightening his chest. He pulled his legs closer, tucked his head further.

_In, out._

Strong arms wrapped around him, lifting him from the chair and setting him on the floor. Sam remained within arms reach. He pressed himself closer to the hunter’s side, feeling the rise and fall of his chest and trying to match his own.

 _In, out_.

He didn’t need this now, didn’t need the rush of panic, falling into helplessness. It wasn’t supposed to go like this. Taking things steady had been his intention. Small steps, slowly open up. Test the waters first. Sam wasn’t supposed to see him like this. Not yet, maybe not ever.

“Hey,” a soft voice soothed. “I need you to listen to me, alright.” Gabriel allowed the words to guide him back to the present. “Deep breaths,” the voice seemed to grow less distant. “Deep breaths, okay.”

He inhaled, long and steady, finding it harder to remain consistent on the exhale. A second time and he found it a bit easier. And again, with each breath, he calmed himself.

“That’s it,” the voice encouraged. _Sam_ encouraged. “There you go.”

The hunter allowed Gabriel to regain full control of himself before continuing. “How you feeling?” A glare, something that could’ve been considered a bitchface, had the archangel not been recovering from a panic, prompted Sam to specify. “Shitty question. I mean, are you feeling steady? Breathing alright?”

“Better.” Gabriel shrugged. He could feel the aftereffects, hands shaking, voice rough. But he could breathe again. His thoughts remained a scrambled mess, running through the possibles ways to explain, to justify himself, but that was him, _thinking._ It was in his control. “Sam--”

“You don’t need to say anything.” Gabriel could read Sam, though. He could tell the hunter wanted to know more, to be able to lessen the ache of whatever it was that had caused this. Worry was written across his posture, in the way he leaned towards Gabriel, how he sat, ready to spring forward given the necessity. “I’m not gonna go and say it’s okay. It’s not. With what happened, you clearly aren’t alright. Maybe it’ll be a few months, maybe years, but it will get better, as hard as that might be to believe sometimes...” He stopped, words catching for a moment as he reminisced. The words were from experience, Gabriel could tell. It was supposed to be sympathetic, meaningful. Something about the attempt of a connection off-put him instead. “I know there's times I don’t believe it myself.”

“No.” The word was spoken with a harshness that shocked Sam. “You don’t..” Gabriel shut his eyes, tried to relax the tension that overtook him. “This isn’t about the nightmares, Sam. I’ve had nightmares since I left Heaven. I know how to deal with them.” It was a lie, partly. He learned to work around them, sure. The guilt they caused and the memories he saw? He had never dealt with them, simply grew numb to it. “But I wake from them and..” Gabriel could feel the panic well up again. Regret surfaced besides it, wishing to take back all that had been said. To let Sam keep speaking without interference, not get involved. Gabriel pushed past it, wanting to bring the words to the surface. The thought of such terrified him, more than he would’ve like to admit. It prodded at his mind, begging him to stay silent, keep to himself.

 _Safe_ , it whispered. _Stay where it's safe._

But Sam felt safe too. And worried, and understanding. He had more to offer than Gabriel could ever give to himself. That was enough to convince him to continue. “When I wake up, I only feel worse. I hate myself for it. I know it's wrong and it's better the way things happened because I’m safe now--” The panic fought against his resistance. He spoke fast, stumbling through the words, only to stop and regain composure. “I’m safe and I know that and it’s better like that. He can’t get me. Maybe I have some sort of...I don’t know, standing chance? Some standing chance to try to rebuild my life now ‘cause he’s _dead._ ” He caught his breath, holding back a whimper. “He’s dead and I’m here now. But I wake up and I don’t feel free. I don’t... understand why. No--” he considered, head tilted, biting at his lip. “I do. He used me and beat me in more ways than I can describe, made me believe the things he told me. I was needed and I know, _I know,_ what he did to me, I have to relive it every night, but...I don’t...he needed me or maybe it was just conditioned into me, something like that. He’s gone, but he’s still controlling me. I...it’s regret, Sam. I’ll wake up and I regret it.”

Gabriel looked up, his eyes, pleading for something he couldn’t quite define, meeting Sam’s fearful ones. He wanted an end to this, perhaps. A way out, guiding hands to pull him away. And Sam could only offer an apprehensive stare in return, awaiting the words he knew were bound to follow. “I wake up and regret killing Asmodeus and I hate myself for it.”

The room felt heavy, the weight of confession creating an air of uncertainty. Gabriel slumped forward, head resting on Sam’s shoulder. The remnants of his energy was gone, used up to push each word out of his mouth, fight against the part of him screaming to stop. It left him powerless against the incoming wave of emotions. They overtook him, whispering contradictions throughout his mind. But he could've sworn at least a few were positive. Relief, for one, left him feeling a weight lifted from his chest. Guilt countered it, leaving him buckling further over, a whine escaping his throat as the thoughts became too much.

He wasn’t panicking, not in the way he had experienced minutes before. It was simply too much to comprehend, the fact that he had just said what he had. Something he had caged away, tried to push down far enough that he would forget it, yet never truly did. That cage was open now, words having broken its bars. There was too much to feel. He was overwhelmed.

Gabriel waited for Sam to say something, anything. He didn’t, reaching out instead, pulling the angel tight against him. Sam’s actions spoke more than any words could. The embrace soothed, told him Sam was there, he wasn’t leaving anytime soon. He intended to help, in whatever way he could. The pure intimacy of it was new to Gabriel, rousing a sob.

He didn’t realize it as tears formed in his eyes. His body shook with each whimper. Sam felt it against him and cupped the smaller man’s head closer to him, threading his fingers through his hair. As if on instinct, Gabriel allowed himself to lean into the touch. He listened to the reassuring words Sam had began to mutter.

“I’ve got you, alright. I’ve got you. What Asmodeus did to you, what he told you, I know its hard, I know it was probably convincing at times, but he played his words to control you. Nothing he told you was true. And, Gabriel, you’re strong. The fact that you’re still here, still trying to fight this is enough to show that. Don’t you ever forget that, no matter how much this gets to you, don’t ever forget that you _are_ strong, and worthy, and deserve to be able to wake up feeling free from what Asmodeus did. You already hate the fact that you regret it, right? That’s a first step, okay. We’re gonna get you past this.”

Gabriel wrapped his arms around Sam’s chest, clung desperately to the fabric of his shirt. The words fought to take effect and encourage the healing that they were intended to do. It wasn’t quite enough, the self-loathing still finding its way through his thoughts. That didn’t disregard the improvement. Sam’s words stuck, repressed for now, but far from forgotten.

“I’m not gonna give up on you, I swear.”

  
  



End file.
